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December 3, 2014 by Karin 3 Comments

A Mother’s Prayer

We rounded the corner blinded by the scorching desert sun. Our necks craned until we saw the red dome in the distance. There’s nothing like an outing with Daddy. While the rest of the world seemed to be veering in and out of lanes leading them to and from the daily grind, we breathed the taste of freedom. My warrior, our six-pack, and I.

Countless days, weeks, and months of separation brought by deployments lingered in our memories as we relished this taste of freedom on a regular old weekday.

We spotted our destination in the distance and the kids bubbled with glee. The Adventure Dome – this red-roofed capsule of childhood memories. Don’t we all pray for these memories for our little ones? Don’t we look into their newborn faces and hope for endless fulfilled dreams? We fall to thankful knees and pray blessings over our young broods. Deep down we know He has unimaginable good in store for these young ones who walk this earth carrying pieces of our hearts.

That’s when we saw him… {please join me over here at my dear friend Elisa Pulliam’s place today for the rest of the story}

Orchard in the Desert

 

Philippians 4:13

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Community, Compassion, Motherhood Tagged With: everyone is God's child, mother's prayer

October 15, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

When You Wonder If They Will Stick Together

Walking the Path

I can see it like it was yesterday.

The scene in the back seat of my truck. A screeching baby and a fidgety toddler.

It was dark and after a long drive to I-don’t-even-remember-where, we were nearing our home. Our home for the moment anyway.

The wails from the backseat can grate on the very last nerve you have left when you are sleep deprived and trying to relish all the parent-of-little-kids moments. And our nerves were shot.

I tried every trick up the mommy sleeve, but baby girl wasn’t going to fall for it anymore. She was plain mad, plain tired, plain done. Just like her parents.

The kicking legs of toddler boy against our seats was the only rhythm we could seem to find. Ker-chunk, Ker-chunk. Little legs kicking to remind us the journey wasn’t over yet. We faced the joys of bath and bedtime after the long trip. Our night wasn’t over yet.

My warrior and I stared into the distance, worn weary by our little charges. And who would have guessed such small packages can fill your heart and drain your body all at the same time? Onward we drove. Ker-chunk, Ker-chunk. And the wailing resumed.

I don’t remember where we were when I noticed. I don’t recall what pulled me from my mama trance. But suddenly it was quiet.

Oh, maybe they fell asleep!

I whispered to warrior Daddy.

I craned my neck trying to avoid eye contact. You know, eye contact is just asking for more,

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy…

That’s when I saw it. The snap shot burned to memory.

My toddler boy had taken his baby sister’s hand to calm her. Sucking away at his binky, he grinned from beneath the round blue plastic pacifier. His dimpled fingers clutched baby sister’s small hand as he turned his gaze to the window. And baby stopped crying.

I wish I had a photo of this moment, but it was long before iPhones were a glimmer in our moment capturing minds. I stared long at the small hands clutched together in comfort. And I think the best memories are the ones burned on our hearts. I rotated to the front and smiled in the peaceful silence. I was sure it would always be a little like this.

But time passes and babies grow. Big brothers find joy in tormenting little sisters, and siblings spar. Giggles and jabs turn to tears and anger before we can get to the kitchen. We watch as they grow and know that part of growing up is learning to battle, and find peace – under one roof. Part of growing up is standing our ground and finding new paths all at the same time. Part of growing up is growing close, then growing apart, and praying to God we find each other again. I have big brothers, too.

Siblings on a hike

Through the sparing and battles with the ones who share our blood we find a new branch on this rapidly growing tree. A place to sit together a while. And sometimes Mom gets to watch.

It’s been ten years since that ride in the car and the paths have been winding. The sibling peace has intertwined with sibling feuds, and sometimes I’ve wondered if my boy would ever reach for his little sister’s hand again.

And then he did.

She had been crying. It’s not easy sometimes – this military life. Just when we feel at home, just when we fall in love, just when we find that perfect friend – it’s time to go again. And my girl misses her home. The one that feels more like home than this one. More than that, she misses her bestie. The one who lives states away. I suppose we all miss at least one good someone in our lives. Sometimes more. So, she cried.

And it doesn’t matter how many times Mama’s arms wrap around her neck, or how many times I whisper,

It will be ok. It will get better. I understand…

Sometimes it takes more than Mom. Or Dad.

She hunched her shoulders and drew her knees to cover her eyes. The shaking shoulders gave way to wracking sobs. And this is when a mother’s heart breaks. Because there is nothing I can do about it.

Baby sister, only sixteen months younger slipped over and touched her leg,

I know, sister. It’s hard sometimes.

Funny to hear those words from a ten-year-old. And I watched the scene unfold.

That’s when I saw his face. His eyes softened as he slid next to his not-so-baby-anymore sister,

It’s ok.

Not another word came from his lips as he pulled my girl into his arms and squeezed.

And just like all those ten years ago. She stopped crying.

Pine Tree in the sun

Because here is the thing. There is a bond between siblings that is stronger and deeper than we can put into words. These branches from the same roots – spreading to the skies before our very eyes.

When we look closely, we can see – the branches reaching for their freedom find each other and touch. Blown by the same winds of change.

Even when decades pass and we wonder if any roots remain; we dig our hands into the common soil and find our roots have only grown deeper and stronger with the trials. 

 

1 Peter 3:8-9

Finally, all of you be of one mind, having compassion for one another; love as brothers, be tenderhearted, be courteous; not returning evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary blessing, knowing that you were called to this, that you may inherit a blessing. 

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Brothers and Sisters, Motherhood, Walking The Path Tagged With: got your back, growing up, siblings

October 13, 2014 by Karin 2 Comments

When The Answer Is No

Walking the Path

He looks at me as his eyes fill with tears,

I know it’s a dumb thing to ask for.

I pull him close noticing that he can now put his head square on my shoulder. I squeeze his shoulders and remember when these long strong arms barely reached around my neck. The once dimpled hands pressing against Mama’s neck. His shoulders slump as he goes on,

I feel guilty for asking. I know it’s too much. There are bigger things in the world. More important things to be upset about.

I don’t know quite how we got this far down the road. And, really, why does it have to go so fast?

I hold his face in my hands,

It’s not dumb. You can ask for anything. It’s just that as we get older we realize we don’t get everything we ask for. And it’s a tough thing to swallow.

He nods as his head drops.

It doesn’t matter how many times our mothers tell us this. It doesn’t matter how many times we hear the stories. This growing up thing is just so hard; and watching it is even harder.

It's always better with two

My mother-in-law told me years ago as we chased my little ones with our hair on fire as they ran amuck through mini disasters,

It’s physically tough right now. The sleep deprivation. The messes. But, it becomes mentally difficult when they get older.

But what did I know? I was sure the baby Mommy phase would never end. The swirl of sleepless nights upon sleepless days, and finger painted diaper messes. The permanent hip jut carrying a whiny toddler while the baby screamed in the ten ton car seat.

The physical strain I was sure would last forever and a remnant still lives in mothering a little one of three. But, she was right. The mental part aches far deeper.

I want you to know you can ask for anything, but sometimes the answer will be no. I don’t want you to ever feel guilty for asking. Guilt is the lie.

And don’t you know, sometimes when you speak to your kids, you can hear God whispering right in your ear,

Ditto.

I look into his eyes and my heart aches. From the moment our eyes meet the deep blue newborn haze of their eyes, we want to give them everything. But we can’t. And we shouldn’t. We bleed and tear and ache for them, and maybe this is meant as foreshadowing. There’s a fresh pain when we watch their hearts ache, and there’s not one thing we can do about it.

I brush the hair from his forehead,

Sometimes the answer is no. And I wouldn’t be doing you any favors by teaching you anything else. But, son, I want you to know this. Believe me… believe Him. Behind every no there is a better yes.

And there is. There is a better yes behind every discouraging defeat. Even when the better yes waits far down the road. Even when the best yes is on the other side of the veil. We can’t give them everything. We want to more than we long for our next breath, but we can tell them the only truth that matters. Sometimes this path is rocky and rough, and sometimes we think we might just crumble before we can make it one more step. But we won’t.

We can teach them this; when the no is blinding us – the best yes waits in His open arms.

 

Numbers 11:23

The Lord answered Moses, “Is the Lord’s arm too short? Now you will see whether or not what I say will come true for you.”

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Motherhood, Walking The Path Tagged With: growing up, when it's a no

October 5, 2014 by Karin Leave a Comment

The One In The Mirror

Walking the Path

I knew I would need it today. I grabbed my armor and headed toward the door.

We all need it really. The Superman shirt.

I grabbed the long-sleeved one a year ago. But it’s fire hot here, so I quickly realized the short sleeve version was a necessity.

It spotted me from the rack and screamed my name,

Take me with you! You are going to need me.

Less than ten bucks. You can’t beat that for full armor.

Today became a grocery day. There are only so many times I can hear,

We have noooothing to eat. Nothing.

I opened the pantry and have never seen nothing look so plentiful. But, like every dedicated Supermom, I grabbed the keys and tried to sneak away.

Fat chance.

Kids streamed out the door wailing,

Take me with you!

Because the grocery store is just that awesome. And off we went. Supermom and a handful of Supermoms-to-be.

Supermom

We skidded through the store with two carts in tow. This rattling train with straggling passengers who seem to spy all the goodies on those low shelves. Brilliant strategy placing those kid magnets at the three-foot eye level. Brilliant. We cruised through the store these helpers and I.

I smiled at their grinning faces and mused,

It’s nice with you here. 

Kids seem to find happy places in the most unlikely locations. Like the grocery store, or the waiting room, or the back of a grocery laden truck.

Kids just seem to find happy places. And I just want to be around them.

We crawled our way to the checkout and in the rush to help mom. help mom. help mom…

The containers dropped. Both of them. And green salsa splattered my jeans, my shoes, and my tear-filled five-year-old,

I’m so sorry, Mommy…

I drew a deep breath as the clerk and bagger eyed me closely. Grinning, the bagger uttered,

Supermom.

I exhaled and put my arm around my sweet teary girl,

Yea, that’s right. Supermom. 

My frazzled nerves whispered in my mind,

More like Surviving Mom. That big S for just plain old Survive.

Times like this are when all the mommy practice is put to the test. And I’ve flunked that test a time or ten. Patience and forgiveness. I looked into those sweet brown eyes and thought,

If I’m going to wear the shirt…

We cleaned the mess, loaded our stash and headed out the door.

After unloading the goods and the exuberant re-entry into our hungry home, my oldest girl smiled at me,

Good thing you wore your Supermom shirt today. You really need the super powers. You know… patience and forgiveness. Moms really need those super powers.

And she’s right. Not just because of spilled salsa or grocery store disasters. Not because the clamoring and whining wreak havoc on our frayed nerves. We need them for ourselves.

Because no one is tougher on a mom, than Mom herself.

So, today, I will use the super powers where the oxygen mask must go first. On myself. We can practice patience and forgiveness on the ones who watch our every move, but we have to start with the one in the mirror.

Carry on SuperMoms. You have done enough for today. You can rest now.

 

Genesis 2:2

By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work.

Karin Madden

Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Motherhood, Walking The Path Tagged With: patience and forgiveness, Supermoms

October 3, 2014 by Karin 4 Comments

When You Think It’s All Going Too Fast

Walking the Path

I’m shuffling from room to room dragging pounds and pounds of dirty laundry.

Actually pounds and pounds is an understatement. It’s more like tons. Six kids can crank out a load of dirty.

But, I’m not complaining. I actually enjoy the sanctuary of the chug-chug-churn-churn in the cozy room tucked past the kitchen. The kids aren’t very interested in that room. A nice refuge for Mama.

I remember shuffling from room to room thirteen years ago. I was full-up swollen to the rim with a new life waiting for his entrance. I thought I’d be pregnant forever. Vomiting and all. We pregnant women tend to believe the hefty weight of new life will never leave our bladder; but we are wrong. 

The day arrives. The tiny gift from God emerges, sucks lungs full of life, and screams. For about three more years. Well, there is some peace and rest in there, too. And the long days stretch into short years. Before we know it, that baby prancing on our bladders and wriggling for the freedom found only in Mama’s arms… that baby, grows up.

Big and Little

And this is where our hearts burst and ache all at the same time.

I look over at my boy and can’t help grinning. This boy who thought he would be little forever and,

When will I get taller?

I can’t contain the smile, because I’ve told him time and again,

Just wait. You’ll grow taller than me. You’ll be big before I can stand it.

He sees me smiling and ventures across the room for a hug. They still do that, you know. Even at almost thirteen. I wasn’t sure if the big boys would still want those Mama hugs, but they do. 

We are nearly eye-to-eye and that familiar dread creeps into my mind.

We don’t have much more time. I don’t think I can bear letting them go.

We see our friends and family send kids to college, while we nostalgically watch our young friends bring new life home.

It all goes too fast. Our parents and grandparents said it would. But, we didn’t really believe it – or want to hear it.

The faster the downhill snowball of parenthood, the more we dig our heels into the ground trying to stop the momentum. But we can’t.

And, I’m tired of being sad about it. And dreading it.

I remember the hope my sister-in-law gave me years ago when I asked her what her favorite age was with the kids.

Every age has been the best age. I’ve loved every year. It changes, but it’s amazing to watch them grow… to see the people they become.

We bring home these babies and before we know it the babies have deep voices, and whiskers, and look us right in the eye.

I’m done with the dread and the wondering if my heart will be able to take it. Because I know it will. Dreading the journey because we think it will end is like dreading the gift before we’ve opened it. The journey IS the gift.

My boy wraps his arms all the way around me and suddenly I realize…

The tiny arms were just a glimpse of the whole picture. These long arms with the hands as big as mine have been waiting to find their way full around my shoulders.

We have an eternal journey down this road. Shoulder to shoulder. There is much yet to see.

And the Light shines brighter than I realized all those thirteen years ago…

Isaiah 42:16

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them.

Karin Madden

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Filed Under: A Day in the Life, Motherhood, Walking The Path Tagged With: baby to big, mama and son, much yet to see

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Meet Karin

Hi! My name is Karin Madden. Writer. Warrior wife. Mom of six pack. Homeschooler. German-blooded southerner. Welcome to the place where I explore what it means to grow stronger - spirit, soul, and body. I write to inspire and encourage - to remind you we are not alone. By being bold with grace and speaking truth in love, we can become who we are meant to be. I'm glad you are here.

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